Original subtitles

This is the way Ellen came.

She was young and beautiful and rode ahead in a pony and trap, carrying her

child.

A local man followed with a cart containing the few worldly goods she

wished to keep.

Her clothes, her books, her music and her painting things.

The things most people hoard, the household gods.

Ellen didn't want them.

Her husband had died serving overseas, leaving Ellen and his child provided

for.

All that was 16 years ago.

Ellen's retreat in the depths of the country, her beautiful answer to the

crammed and trampling town.

She hasn't added much to the house in 16 years, and the careful relationships,

the elaborate social rounds, she doesn't need them.

She's basically a solitary person.

Besides, Ellen has Rosie.

She's as restless as a butterfly on a sunny day.

What do you think?

I think it's the best one I've done.

Rosie,

caught in perpetual childhood.

Her favorite colors.

Rosie.

Oh, Rosie.

No.

Darling, you shouldn't have done that.

I'll get your picture.

Rosie's turn to paint now.

There, that's your picture.

I don't like it.

Darling, that's being silly.

Come on, it's a nice painting. I'll help you do it. I don't want to.

Rosie, bring the milk.

Come and sit here.

At first, Ellen was bitterly disappointed in Rosie.

And she blamed herself.

What flaw?

What omission in the ritual of love?

had marred her daughter.

Now, we won't do any painting today, okay? But now she

wouldn't change her.

She's an adorable child.

Even the touch of the fiend in her nature is so much a part of the wildness

of living here.

The house has many outbuildings in its sheltered gardens.

They form an important part of Rosie's secret world.

Doves fill the barn with their bubbling voices that zap and flutter at their

wings.

Do you like it?

The panicky greed of the birds is exciting to Rosie.

Tucked away like people in a fairy story.

The young princess trapped by a wicked spell and her tender guardian.

But the spell shows itself now and then. In the calm, sequestered life, there are

the Black Days.

Rosie?

What are you doing?

Rosie, no. She's done wrong.

Show me your hands.

Where have you put it this time?

Come on, tell me.

Oh,

poor little bird.

Promise me you won't do that again.

This part of the garden is nourished by the corpses of Rosie's little victims.

Black days, shadows on their sunlit existence.

Ellen has never talked to anyone about Rosie, never asked for help.

She feels so strongly that any outside influence would be destructive.

She's devoted her life to her difficult child.

And time has passed quickly in this separated existence, this dream of

simplicity with its touches of nightmare.

Rosie, do it.

Rose's tune, Mother and Daughter.

Ellen, for one, believes it to be the gentlest, the most unselfish

relationship in the world.

And why should it ever change?

The sunlight glittering like the words, the ideas, that Rosie can never quite

pin down.

Trout straight from the river, grilled over a wood fire.

But sometimes a fish doesn't get home to Ellen.

After sacrifice, the cleansing.

It's a deep instinct.

Good morning.

Who's he?

Never seen him before.

You're Rosie, aren't you?

He knows her name. I've heard about you in the village.

He's heard how she's kept like a prisoner in the cottage.

Mind if I join you?

A boy with romantic notions.

My name's Paul.

Moving quietly as to a wild creature.

Don't be afraid.

Fearing to startle her. I won't hurt you.

She's poised for flight.

Been doing some fishing.

It's a lovely day.

Don't you think the flowers look nice?

The daffodils.

We don't have many flowers where I come from.

They're so beautiful, but it's such a shame to pick them.

Oh, that's very kind. Thank... I say...

The princess leaves the prince in the beautiful garden, which is

also her prison.

And in her ivory tower, she wonders, will he come back?

does a little unnecessary gardening by the water's edge.

An excuse, of course.

Rosie hasn't spoken to her mother. She doesn't need to.

Ellen is alarmed. She's waiting for the visitor.

The boy is not a fisherman, but he walks upstream carrying a rod.

A justification for trespass.

Good morning, Mom.

I hoped I could see Rosie.

Rosie?

Um... I'm Rosie's mother.

Would you... He's brought a gift for

Rosie. Some poems.

I've... I've bought this book.

It's some poems.

I thought you might like it.

Oh, I see.

She's very beautiful Rosie.

Yes.

Yes, she is Could

you see that she gets it She can't help being

alarmed by his friendliness I'll give it to her

It's cold

I have to go now.

Mother returns home, alone.

Mothers always know best.

The poems might as well be written in a different language, but still she

struggles to make sense of them.

Who would have thought that Rosie would ever want to read?

If you should find me waiting for your love, you'll look into my eyes and know

that all my heart is shining there for you to see.

If you should find me waiting for your love,

don't turn away.

Let love find me.

Next day, Rosie Salks spends much of her time in the garden, expectant.

Ellen stays alert, watchful, protective,

ever-loving.

This anxiety in her heart, she wants to forbid.

She's kept Rosie to herself so long.

Too long, perhaps.

Let's play a game.

She's been so much in his thoughts that now he feels awkward.

He's all hands and feet like a country bumpkin.

All the planned gentleness gets caught up in a regretful display of childlike

bullying. Shall I?

I will. I'm going to. I will.

Ready? One.

It's going.

Two.

Going.

Three!

Don't worry, Rosie.

I'll get it.

Innocent, intimate, like children together.

I can't get it. Right over there, Rosie.

He may read better than she does, but he can't skip across stones in the river,

and he's never caught a trout with his bare hands.

He's troubled by her dismay.

It's ruined!

No, it's not.

It'll be all right.

Don't worry.

Once it's dry, it'll be perfect.

Absolutely perfect.

Come on.

Try and hit that over there.

That's it.

We ought to have my dog here.

That would save us going all the way around there to get him.

Did you teach him to do that?

Yes.

He's called Joe. You'd love him.

I'm sure I would.

I love dogs.

Have you ever thought of getting one?

Well, I've thought about it.

But I've never asked one, my mother.

You ought to ask her.

How blind she's been.

She never guessed Rosie could look so happy.

It's a revelation.

A friend.

It seemed impossible.

Calf love.

Rosie kissed.

Something to thank God for.

up enough logs to last us all the winter. Really very nice. Unfortunately,

most of them are damp.

He stays for tea quite often now.

Oh, some more tea?

Yes, thank you.

But a simple suggestion can disrupt everything.

Have you ever thought of having any animals here?

Animals?

Oh, no. We have enough trouble looking after the doves.

I... Was going to buy Rosie a puppy.

I would love a puppy.

The idea of a puppy fills Rosie with delight.

No, I... I don't think that would be a good idea.

No, I think a puppy's out of the question.

Poor spellbound Rosie.

Rosie, why don't you go and play that piece I taught you on the piano?

Yeah, you're special too.

For Pooh?

Would you like that?

Yes. Under cover of Rosie's hesitating finger, Ellen has to

explain to Paul.

Paul.

I want you to listen very carefully to what I'm going to say.

I don't want you to mention a puppy to Rosie ever again.

You see, she's... Well, she's very young for her years.

She mustn't be over-excited. It's not good for her.

You see, she did have a rabbit once, and I'm afraid

that she...

Cole,

would you like to come out for a walk with me?

Good.

Come on, then.

He can't bear it.

Thank you for the tea.

He's wondered, of course. He thought Rosie was different.

But now he knows.

You will still get me a puppy, won't you?

Rosie, I can't. You promised.

Your mother said no.

She can't stop you.

I can't go against your mother. I want one.

I want one.

I want one.

It doesn't matter.

Will you come to the woods?

Yes, come on.

It's late when Rosie returns, and Ellen's imagination has been running

riot. Where have you been?

Don't want to talk about it.

Rosie?

Rosie doesn't want to talk. She won't talk.

Supposing... Supposing Paul...

and waits anxiously all next morning.

But Paul doesn't come.

Their little world seems very cold and sad and strange.

And Rosie, she's gone back to her old habits.

must know, must find out.

Rosie, you must tell me where it is.

Don't know.

I'm not playing a game with you. Tell me.

All was before Rosie's made the act of penitence.

Now she won't tell.

They search the grounds.

Nothing there.

She shouts at Rosie, pushing, pushing for the truth.

Ellen learns nothing.

That afternoon, she shuts Rosie indoors and walks alone to the village.

She calls at Paul's lodging.

Oh, good morning.

Good morning. I was just wondering if I could have a word with Paul.

Well, I'm afraid he's not in.

He's, um... Well, he wasn't here last night, as a matter of fact. He wasn't

down to breakfast this morning, so she went up to his room.

The bed hadn't been slept in.

So he can't have been in all night. Mind you, his clothes are still there. And of

course the room's paid for, so it isn't anything like that.

A raw wind clatters the branches of the trees.

Ellen is battered by its freezing gusts.

Dusk gathers in the garden, pressing against the windows of the house.

Rosie? Rosie's been sitting here all the time. Are you all right?

Watching the darkness come.

Ellen forces herself to appear calm. If she frightens Rosie, she won't get

anywhere.

I've been looking for Paul.

You must tell me everything so that I can help you.

He's gone.

Rosie, tell me where he's gone.

Rosie. Rosie, you've got to tell me. Rosie!

He only went home to get his dog.

It was a secret, so he didn't say goodbye.

And when they see him, such a good sort of hairy, waggy dog, maybe Ellen will

change her mind.

He knows it will be right for Rosie.

A dog would make all the difference to her life.

Rosie?

Rosie?

I bought the dog.

Rosie. bought joe poor spellbound princess

transformed with joy